by Max Brallier
“‘It started three hundred years ago in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. On a dark, moonless night Mother Leeds gave birth to her thirteenth child. A hideous creature emerged, with leathery wings, a long tail, horns, and a head like a horse. It let out a terrible cry and flew up the chimney.
“‘Since then, many sightings of the creature have been recorded. An early report came from naval commodore Stephen Decatur in the 1800s. He saw the beast flying across the sky. He shot a cannonball at it, but the Jersey Devil kept flying.
“‘In 1909 there was a rash of sightings. In one town the beast flew around a trolley full of people. One witness found hoofprints on a roof. Another woman heard a noise in her yard and went outside to see the Jersey Devil holding her dog. She hit the creature with a broom, and it dropped her dog and flew away.
“‘Skeptics think the Jersey Devil is a large bird, such as the great horned owl. In recent years there haven’t been as many sightings, but people still report hearing its unearthly cry in the woods late at night.’”
The roar of an engine snapped Annie’s focus back to the mission at hand. Behind her was a motorcycle, catching up fast. Gretchen . . .
Annie’s bike was jolted by a hard hit from behind. Gretchen cackled. Annie did her best to maintain a grip on the bike’s handles as the road twisted and turned. It grew darker as they raced deeper into the woods.
Soon, she’d be upon the trap: a net strung across the road that would entangle Gretchen. Annie narrowed her eyes, scanning the road ahead.
There!
Annie slammed on the brakes, and Gretchen rocketed past her—straight into the net!
Annie’s trap had worked! Gretchen was instantly yanked off her motorcycle and entangled in the net. The motorcycle rocketed off into the woods, leaving Gretchen strung up like some unlucky bug caught in a spider’s web.
Annie climbed off her bike.
“You rotten little thing!” Gretchen howled.
“Me?” Annie exclaimed. “You shot me out of the sky! You scared away the Loch Ness Monster! I almost got eaten by the Chupacabra because of you!”
Gretchen glared.
Annie reached her hand inside Gretchen’s coat pocket and snatched the photo of the Loch Ness Monster. “Now I have my proof back!”
Gretchen glared harder. “You’ll never win!”
Annie stepped away from the dangling villain and flipped on her Mews Foundation communicator. “Mr. Mews, it went exactly as planned!”
“Fantastic!”
“And I got the photo back!”
“Wonderful. Only two more to go and the contest is yours!”
Annie didn’t respond. Something in the distance had caught her attention: a rundown old house, alone in a field.
“Annie, are you there?” Mews said.
“Yes, I’m here. And I believe I’m looking at the house of the Jersey Devil . . .”
“Annie, be careful.”
“I will,” Annie said.
She shut off the Mews Foundation communicator and approached the dark house. All the while, Gretchen kept howling at her.
The House of the Jersey Devil
“I must be clinically insane,” Annie said to herself as she crept toward the house. It was nearly pitch-black now, and even the crickets had stopped chirping.
She grabbed hold of the old door handle. It felt strangely warm. Without even being pushed, the door swung open and made a long, chilling, creaking sound.
Inside, moonlight shone through the windows, casting eerie rectangles of light on the floor. A cool draft blew through the house, and a chandelier swayed lightly in the breeze.
Annie gently swung her backpack off her shoulder and reached inside for her flashlight. She flicked it on. What she saw made her blood run cold.
It was the horrid and disfigured face of an elderly man! The man had no eyes—just holes where they should have been. Red streaks were visible on his face. Annie shrieked and the flashlight clanged to the floor.
It took Annie a moment to realize that it was only a painting. A very old, very creepy painting—one only a total nut job would hang in their house—but still, just a painting. Vandals had splashed it with paint and sliced it apart.
Get it together, Annie, she said to herself.
She picked up the flashlight and proceeded to explore the bottom floor of the house. The floorboards creaked with every step, and a thick layer of dust covered everything. Mice skittered across the floor and thick cobwebs filled the doorways. But beyond that, there was nothing of interest on the first floor. And no signs of the giant winged creature known as the Jersey Devil.
“Upstairs we go, then,” Annie said aloud.
The stairs were old and rotten, so Annie walked slowly and carefully. She didn’t want to fall through and be trapped in the basement—it was probably nightmare central down there.
The second floor of the house was no better than the first. Bedrooms that still held beds, dressers, and nightstands. Old newspapers tacked to the wall—some hung loose and swayed in the breeze. Creeptown, USA. But no sign of any monster.
“Well, that’s it, I guess . . . ,” Annie said, partially relieved. “I struck out.”
Walking back down the stairs, Annie felt a cool chill blowing over the creaky old staircase steps and up her leg. Annie slowed down and took every step carefully. The last thing she wanted was to—
Crack!
One floorboard snapped.
Uh-oh.
Annie took another careful step—and another floorboard cracked. Annie’s foot burst through.
Oh no.
Annie lunged for the staircase railing just as two more floorboards cracked. Wood splintered, Annie slipped, and she fell through the staircase!
A long moment later, Annie landed on her butt, hard. She was sprawled out on the cool dirt basement floor. But she could see nothing. It was pitch-black. She reached around for her flashlight, searching in the darkness.
She could hear herself breathing. She slowed her breath. She had to calm down.
But she could still hear herself breathing. Unless . . . ? Unless that wasn’t Annie breathing . . .
Annie felt around for her flashlight. She found it, flicked it on, and—
“SCAHHH!”
“Ahhh!” Annie screamed. She was staring at a terrible, horrible, freaky horse face! The face of the Jersey Devil! The creature filled the entire basement.
Annie frantically looked for an exit, but there was none. This basement had no doors! No wonder no one had ever found the Jersey Devil before—only Annie’s fall had revealed the creature!
The horrific cryptid moved toward her. Annie’s heart pounded. She looked up. She could climb back out of the basement, but she needed to buy some time . . .
Her camera!
She ripped it from her bag and fumbled for the ON button. After what felt like an eternity, she found it and—click—snapped a photo. The bright white flash lit up the room and blinded the Jersey Devil. It reeled back, holding one of its huge, disgusting wings over its eyes.
“SKEEE!” The cryptid howled, then turned and scampered toward a fireplace in the corner. Somehow, it wormed its way inside, and with a whoosh, it flew up the chimney!
Annie breathed the world’s biggest sigh of relief. It’s gone!
As quickly as she could, Annie climbed the wall to the broken staircase then crawled up onto the first floor. She needed to get out of this house, now! Her legs went into overdrive, and she sprinted out through the front door and into the night.
She heard the flapping of wings behind her. It was a disgusting, almost wet sound. She kept running. A tree jutted out of the ground not far from the house, and Annie ducked behind it. After a moment, she calmed down. Sweat was still pouring off her face, and her heart was still pounding, but she wasn’t about to pee her pants—so that was good. She peeked around the side of the tree. Next to the house, the devil was flapping its huge wings and preparing to fly away.
Annie breathed a
long sigh of relief. I’m safe. I’m going to be all right.
But then another thought entered Annie’s mind—a thought more frightening than the Jersey Devil itself: I’m a wuss! I had it. The real creature! Right there! And I’m letting it get away! And because of that, Gretchen will probably win the contest!
And suddenly Annie was running. Not away from the monster. No, she was sprinting back inside the house. Running up the stairs, leaping across the shattered steps, and racing up to the second floor. To the window. To her one chance of catching the Jersey Devil and getting the solid proof she needed.
Annie scrambled out onto the ledge. The giant cryptid was just a few feet from her face. Annie swallowed, braced herself, and then . . .
She leaped!
She hung in the air for a long moment, not sure if she would make it, not sure if she would crash to the ground below and maybe possibly really regret ever starting on this whole freaked-out cryptids hunt.
Her head clonked against the cryptid’s knee and Annie threw her arms around its hairy legs. She got a mouthful of Jersey Devil leg hair. Gross!
The creature howled, flapped its wings, and shot upward. But Annie hung tight. So . . . now what’s the plan?
The Jersey Devil flew higher and higher. Its tail whipped back and forth, and it shook its legs in a desperate attempt to knock Annie loose.
And it worked. Annie’s hands slipped. She was losing her grip. And then, as the Jersey Devil continued its ascent, Annie’s fingers gave way.
And she was falling, falling, falling . . .
Snowbound
CRACK!
Annie crashed though the top branch of a huge oak tree, fell through two more branches, and then landed—hard—in the crook of the tree in a flurry of leaves.
Lastly, an acorn fell and clonked her on the forehead. Annie sighed. Thanks, acorn, I needed that.
Annie rolled over, gripping the tree—she didn’t need another fall—and as she did, she heard another crack!
“Oh, great. That was probably my shinbone,” Annie muttered.
Annie sat up and searched for the source of the noise. To her amazement, she saw it was an eggshell. And a giant eggshell at that. And then she realized . . .
Oh man! This must be the Jersey Devil’s egg!
“No wonder it was such a jerk!” Annie exclaimed. “It was just protecting its babies! And this empty shell . . . this is proof it exists!”
Annie gently placed the eggshell inside her bag. Very slowly and very carefully she climbed down the tree. She needed to get back to Mews immediately. This eggshell would be covered in cryptid DNA!
Back in the whirlybird, Annie was placing the eggshell in a padded box to keep it safe when the monitor flashed on.
“Mr. Mews! Mr. Mews, I’ve found another one!” She grinned into the monitor.
“An—An—Annie—” Mews’s voice was crackling and fading in and out.
Annie frowned. She pounded the monitor a few times. The video flashed and flickered then finally went black.
“Mr. Mews, I’ve lost you,” Annie said.
“Annie? Are you there?” Mews’s voice returned, but now there was no video.
“I can’t see you, but I can hear you.” Annie frowned. She turned up the volume.
“These blasted devices . . . Technology isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Mews said. “Listen, it’s imperative that you get to Tibet immediately. There, you’ll find clues to the next cryptid.”
“The final one? Okay!” Annie exclaimed.
I’m going to do it. I’m going to win the contest!
“There will be a Sherpa waiting for you. The code word is Xanadu. Do you understand?”
Annie trusted Mews completely, so of course she agreed. “I’m on my way!” Annie said, then she banked the whirlybird and headed for East Asia.
It was early morning when Annie arrived in Tibet, and the sun was peeking over the top of the Himalayan mountain range. Even in Mews’s state-of-the-art, superspeedy whirlybird it had been a long, long flight. Annie had the temperature in the helicopter cranked up to about one hundred degrees, and her breath was fogging up the windshield. She wiped the moisture away. Through the glass, she could see the small, snow-covered village of Bei below.
The helicopter touched down just outside the village. Annie rooted around in the back of the whirlybird, found a massive winter parka, and stepped into it. It was about three sizes too big, and it felt like she was walking around in a two-hundred-pound sleeping bag.
In town, a shop owner was hanging fish outside a small food stand. “I’m supposed to meet a guide around here,” Annie said. “Any idea where I might look?”
“Check the base of the mountain path,” the shop owner replied.
Annie thanked him and walked through the town. It was bustling with activity, and nobody paid her any mind. In the distance, at the base of a winding mountain path, she could just make out the silhouette of a Sherpa. The guide’s back was to Annie. High above them was a beautiful Tibetan monastery built into the side of the mountain.
As Annie approached, the Sherpa said, without turning, “What’s the password?”
“Xanadu,” Annie replied, shouting into the roaring wind.
“Perfect,” the Sherpa said. And then turned around and—
The Sherpa was actually Grimlock!
“Hello, little one,” Grimlock said. “You seem to have eluded me at every possible turn. The net was quite clever, I’ll admit.”
“You hijacked the radio!” Annie exclaimed.
“Indeed. I do a wonderful Harold Mews impression, don’t you think?”
Annie glared at Gretchen.
Gretchen continued, “I trust you left the Jersey Devil’s eggshell, the Loch Ness Monster’s photograph, and the Chupacabra’s tooth in the helicopter?”
Oh no. Annie’s heart sank.
“That look tells me all I need to know,” Gretchen said, grinning wickedly.
“No! I’ll never let you get—”
“Sorry, I must bid you farewell,” Gretchen said.
With that, Gretchen whipped a bullhorn out from behind her back and brought it to her mouth.
“So . . . FAREWELL!” Gretchen screamed into the bullhorn.
Annie covered her ears. Gretchen’s words were impossibly loud. The sound echoed across the mountaintops. At first, Annie didn’t understand. But then she felt the ground rumble . . .
Gretchen had started an avalanche.
Gretchen disappeared in a flash—and in her place was, like, one hundred tons of snow and ice crashing, tumbling, and rolling toward Annie.
Annie was running, trudging as fast as her little legs would allow. But the avalanche was moving harder and faster . . .
« NEWS FLASH! »
Listen up, adventure fans! BIG news!
A source tells me that Gretchen Grimlock needs only one more piece of proof to win! That’s right, she has the goods on three previously never-before-proved creatures!
Could it be true?
And—an even more important question!—have we seen the last of young Annie Perkins? Last I heard she was buried up to her neck in trouble.
We’ll know more soon! Stay tuned!
The Scalp
The snow hit Annie like a ton of bricks: enveloping her, wrapping her up, and carrying her down the mountain. As she tumbled end over end, Annie saw flashes of bright white amid glimpses of deep, dark black. Her head burst out from beneath the snow for just a moment and she gasped for air before being swallowed whole again.
After what felt like an ice-cold eternity, the avalanche slowed. Annie found herself in a small, dark hole in the snow. It was tight and freezing, and she needed to escape, now! She dug her hands into the snow and began digging, not even sure whether she was going up or down.
Her teeth chattered as her fingers burrowed and her feet kicked. F-f-frozen bananas!
Finally, Annie punched her way through the top of the snow. She could feel the sun high above her,
warming her. She grabbed hold of the icy surface and pulled herself up and out as she inhaled long breaths of air.
Nothingness surrounded Annie on all sides—just long, white, endless plains. She took one shaky step and collapsed. She was too frozen and exhausted to walk. And then, filled with a deep cold that chilled her bones, she blacked out.
When Annie woke, it was dark. She no longer felt cold, just warmth coursing through her body. She felt peace and calm. Oh great, Annie thought. Just great. This is what they call hypothermia!
At that moment, a figure appeared in the distance: a cloaked silhouette in the moonlight.
“And I’m so cold I’m hallucinating,” she said. “Awesome.”
But she wasn’t hallucinating. The cloaked figure was real. Two bare hands appeared and removed the hood, revealing the face of a monk. He had a bald head and a gentle smile. He reached down and picked up Annie.
“You’re strong,” Annie muttered, before blacking out again.
When Annie awoke, she was warm. But not bogus hypothermia warm—really warm! She was sitting next to a fire. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. She was in some sort of Tibetan monastery. Two statues of lions stood by the door. A long hall lined with ornamental window screens stretched out behind her. All around her, tall white candles burned. Across from Annie, clad in long red robes, sat the monk who had rescued her.
“You appear to be a long way from home,” the monk said.
“I am,” Annie said. And it hit her, then—just how far from home she really was. It had only been a few days since she left to enter the contest, but it felt like so much more. She pictured her family waiting for her—all of them together hoping, more than anything, that she’d return home with the prize that would save them. But Annie knew the truth. That would not happen.
She had failed.
“I just want to go home,” Annie said, “and curl up in my bed and lie there until Christmas.”
